That Really Hurt
by Rowana1
Summary: Dead Man Walking Tag. Something isn't quite right with one of the gang when they return from their taxing ordeal, leaving one of them in severe pain, most of them horribly worried, and more than one of them with an apology to make. For LegolasThranduilion


**For Legolas Thranduilion! Hope ya' like it, Mellon Nin! ^;^ Basically some Willers luuuuuuuurve shown in a very...um...odd sort of way...It's got a good-sized dose of humour to break up the angst, hope that it's fantastic ^?^ **

That Really Hurt

Will was fairly certain he'd never been quite so happy to throw a cloak on the ground and all but fall on top of it to make an attempt at sleeping. He also couldn't think of any time besides his near-hanging when he'd been so sore. And that had hurt, that had really hurt. Not only had his neck twinged for days afterwards, but his rescue hadn't exactly been gentle either. The short fall from noose to platform had given him more than a few bruises, not to mention the ones left by the villagers clamouring to get him _off _of said platform. _This_, however, was something different entirely. He'd been chained in one spot overnight, it had rained, and he'd been kicked multiple times throughout. That, combined with the beating he'd taken from Allan on the way there- and he still wondered _why _Allan had been so happy to go about that particular task- had left him aching almost all over. _And _he was sure he was going to have a cold by morning, if he even lasted the rest of the day without sneezing. He felt a little selfish, stacking up all of his troubles like that, but at least knowing the reasons for hurting was better than having to wonder about it. Every pain seemed to be accounted for in some way or another, so there was one thing he couldn't exactly complain about.

He looked around the makeshift campsite for a reasonable spot to sleep- he doubted anyone would notice that he wasn't really doing anything- and found a relatively smooth bit of grass. Good, grass was better than dirt anyday. Less likely to prod for no apparent reason, as long as he checked for rocks first. Gingerly shedding his cloak, he spread it out on the ground and folded the hood under a few times. That would make an alright pillow, he supposed. Now if he could find a blanket, that would be nice...but that would require further movement. Grimacing at the thought, he shook his head lightly and sat down rather carefully, wincing and rolling his shoulders back as the motion sent a racking pain up and down his back.

Will sighed heavily; he knew about these sort of things. He was going to be sore for days, third day being the worst. The third day was always the worst. _Without fail_, the third day hurt the most, but after that it would start getting better. Or, at least, that's what his mother had always said. He couldn't quite remember if she'd been right or not, but he hoped she was. He lay back slowly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before-

"What are you doing?"

Will yelped and blinked rapidly, finding himself staring up into the rather annoyed face of Much. Ah, of course. He should've known better. Even knowing that he should have known better couldn't make his heart stop throwing itself against his chest with such force that he'd almost think it had decided that it didn't like its current location anymore, nor could it keep the surprise out of his voice. "Wha-?"

Much had his classic expression of something between irritation and...well...Much-ness. Will didn't know the word for it, but it involved wide, disbelieving eyes and hands on his hips, lips pressed tight together. His voice also held its usual Muchy-Tone, the one that suggested that he was shocked and embarassed at your behaviour, no matter what it was. It was his offended, wounded tone. The one he said that smaller men used. "You can't just lie about!" he exclaimed, "There's work to be done!"

Will blinked slowly, propping up on each elbow and trying to make his mind cooperate. He was already half asleep, he realized, and couldn't think straight. "What work?" he asked, trying to keep bemusement from creeping into his voice, as well as fighting down a sulk at the prospect of not reaching the other half of the peaceful bliss that was sleep.

Much gaped, blinking equally as slowly and opening and closing his mouth several times, as if he couldn't quite comprehend what he was hearing. "What work?" he exclaimed, waving his hands in a vague gesture, "There's firewood to be chopped! Supplies to gather!"

Will sighed again, but the sigh turned into a barely concealed yawn. "What supplies?" he questioned wearily.

Much rolled his eyes. "Djaq swears there are edible plants around here, and _if _you've cared to notice," he nodded toward John, who was standing on the other side of the clearing, "_John _is _hurt_. Djaq needs herbs to treat his injuries with."

Somewhere in the fog that was swirling about his mind, Will realized that that was totally uncalled for. He wanted to retort that he was tired as well, but then again, he didn't know exactly how bad Johns' injuries were, and did know that people could still die from a scratch if they weren't carful. The edible plants could hang, for all he cared, but the thought of John dying because he refused to help Djaq find some herbs was enough to make him get up, albeit very slowly, and make his way over to the Saracen.

At least if he helped with herbs he wouldn't have to chop wood.

* * *

He was going to kill Allan, he was going to kill him and find a way to bring him back to life, then he was going to kill Allan again. Thanks to Allan, he was chopping bits of firewood down to size while Allan helped Djaq gather herbs. Sure, he'd picked up the wrong plant five times over, but Djaq hadn't minded too much. Then Allan had overheard her correcting Will, _again_, and had offered to swap jobs.

Will was going to kill him. He was almost done, and he felt like his spine was about to snap. He sneezed, making the axe miss the bit of wood that he'd been trying to split in half and pass mere inches by his leg. He glowered at the axe and was about to make another attempt when he sneezed again, right before coughing. Wincing as pain exploded in his throat, he tried again and allowed himself a small triumphant grin as the wood fell in two pieces instead of repeating its previous pose, standing there as one whole piece, mocking him.

Will looked halfheartedly at the small pile of firewood, realizing that he'd have to carry the lot of it back to the little camp that had been set up. Now there was something he wasn't looking forward to. If he'd been able to find any smaller sticks, that would have been one thing, but all these almost same-sized bits of wood...? He bent down to pick one up and nearly fell over as he coughed again.

He wobbled unsteadily for a moment, finally regaining composure and picking up as much of the wood as he could hold. His back and shoulders were throbbing a steady beat, like that irritating drum that had been played right before he, Luke, and Allan had been hung. That had been one of the worst bits, he remembered, that and the sudden drop before-

He choked on another cough, all but flailing in a desperate attempt not to drop what he was holding. He cursed mentally as he realized that four or five pieces of wood had fallen. He paused, trying to decide whether or not to try to pick them up. His back and shoulders were screaming at him not to, but then again, with his current luck, odds were Much would somehow know he'd left some of it behind, and then Much would be screaming at him that he should have. And, at the moment, his head was screaming at him to avoid being screamed at like the plague. Or like the Turk Flu...

He slowly knelt to pick up the rest of the wood, trying to keep a grip on what he was still holding, only to run into a problem. He had to let go with one hand in order to pick anything up. What was wrong with him? This shouldn't be difficult, but it was. He didn't know why, he felt like he was under water; nothing made sense and he could hardly tell up from down. It was dizzying, it was.

So slowly that it hardly felt like he was moving at all, he let go of the wood with one hand to pick up the rest of it, only to mentally groan in despair as the inevitible happened; the stack of firewood he was still holding fell all over the ground.

Now all that was left was to repeat the process until he was suitably exhausted and decided to give up, or managed to get all of it. He'd have to see which happened first, but he certainly knew which was more likely.

* * *

Allan looked up as Will came staggering back into camp, arms full of wood that looked like it was about to leave his person at any second, hair visibly damp with sweat, exhaustion written all over him. Bloody hell, he looked awful.

As Will came closer and dropped the pile of wood uncerimoniously at Allans' feet, Allan couldn't help but say something. "I'm not bein' funny, but bloody hell, you look awful!" he exclaimed, eyes wide, "Did a tree attack ya' or what, mate?"

Will, barely hearing Allans' voice, was vaguely aware that he had an axe at his belt, in easy reach. He could easily lop the head off the source of the voice if he made a bit of effort, but something told him it wasn't worth it. He'd always swear it wasn't a conscience. That particular part of his mind had gone to sleep hours ago, probably.

Removing the axe from the belt, he handed it to Allan and walked almost blindly toward the pallet he'd made earlier. If he could just sleep for a bit, he'd be fine. Wouldn't have to kill anyone, might feel a little better, wouldn't be aware of any pain of any sort for a little while, everything would be absolutely fine.

Someone grabbed his shoulder.

He groaned inwardly and turned to see Robin, who had a slightly amused look. "Where are you going?" he asked, a small hint of laughter in his voice.

Will stared blankly, unsure of whether he was in trouble or not. "I...I..."

Robin chuckled, spinning him slightly and giving him a light push in the opposite direction. "No matter," he said cheerfully, "Your carving can wait; we must celebrate Johns' safe return! Much has made some soup that resembles being bearable for eating, and we have a little ale, it's going to be a late night."

Will almost wanted to cry. "Now?" he asked almost fearfully, "But it's not-" he looked up. Damn. It was past evening.

Robin frowned, stepping back a little. "Are you alright, Will?" he asked, "You look a bit..."

Will nodded rapidly, wishing he hadn't, "I'm fine," he muttered, "just that..." he trailed off, noting Robins' concerned look, "I'm making John a new staff," he said quietly, "A real one."

Robin nodded knowingly, eyes widening. "Ah...very well then..." he frowned, "How long...?"

Will mentally cringed. He knew exactly how long it would take. Another trip into the forest and hours of sneezing and coughing, that's how long it would take. "Not long."

* * *

To Johns' credit, he seemed to like the staff that Will carved for him. It wasn't anything fancy, but the top was slightly wider than the rest, rounded off a bit and ideal for using as something of a club, as the added weight would make it easier to swing. Arranged around the top were the parts making up the symbol found on the tags; what looked like a bird and a small half circle, that way he could still use the staff when he needed to keep his alliance with Robin a secret.

It wasn't his best work, but it would have to do. He'd made a mental note to do something better later, when he wasn't trying not to scream at the very act of sitting up.

He'd managed to get out of eating more than a few spoonfuls of Muchs' "Soup" and had escaped the little celebration fairly unnoticed, and now he was working his way back to where he'd left the cloak. He was beyond exhausted, he felt like he was going to fall apart at any second, and he didn't like the thought of it.

He finally reached the pallet and was about to lie down when it happened; he coughed, and then fell. Hard.

Pain lanced up his back and he gasped for breath, lying still where he'd fallen. The sudden intake of air made him cough again and, suddenly, he couldn't stop coughing. He couldn't breathe, could hardly move. He managed to roll onto his side and then get to his knees, but the continuous coughing made it impossible to do much else at all.

Whimpering, he curled forward, tears streaming. Each cough felt like his throat was being ripped open, made his chest hurt. His head was pounding, his back felt like it was on fire, and the curved position wasn't helping. Wheezing and dizzy from lack of air, he did the only thing he could think of; got as much breath as he could and screamed for help.

* * *

Djaq could tell that something was quite right in the group. She wasn't sure when she'd first noticed it, but something was off. She just didn't know what it was. She did her best not to display worry as she sat by the fire, sipping her cup of ale and trying to keep up with the general conversation that was drifting about. Will had left a little while ago, although he hadn't said where he was going. He'd looked tired, she thought, very tired. He shouldn't be too worn out from his part of the ordeal they'd all been through; all he'd had to do was play prisoner for a day. It was John who'd been locked in the dungeons, in stocks nonetheless, all night.

Shrugging to herself, she took another sip of ale and glanced across the fire at John. He seemed well, even with the added injury of losing his wife and son again. She knew that this must have been taxing on him, and hoped that he'd be feeling back to normal soon. His wounds hadn't been severe, a few scratches, little else. Mostly what he needed was rest.

"Where did Will go?"

Djaq looked up at Allan slowly, shrugging. "He did not say." she replied, "But I think he went to sleep."

Much snorted derissively, "Been acting like he's at deaths' door all day..."

Robin glared sidelong at his oldest companion, shaking his head in warning. He'd heard Much complaining earlier, and he didn't want his men complaining about each other, not tonight. "Let it rest, Much, he's had just as hard a time as the rest of us."

Much nodded emphatically. "Exactly! You don't see us slinking off for a nap-"

Allan, leaning back against a tree nearby, nudged hm with a foot. "We're older!" he said, frowning, "Besides, it doesn't matter."

Slumping back in place, Much glowered at both Robin and Allan, clearly annoyed. "I know we're older," he replied in a sulking tone, "Still doesn't seem fair..."

Djaq rolled her eyes, noting that John was doing exactly the same thing, and set her cup and bowl on the ground before standing up, sniffing sarcastically. "Fine then," she announced, "I will go wake him up and tell him you think so."

Much blanched. "You aren't serious."

Djaq nodded, turning away. "Of course I am." in truth, she wasn't. She just wanted an excuse to check and make sure he was alright, maybe get rid of the nagging sense of something being wrong that plagued her mind. She had no intention of actually disturbing him- if he had really been tired all day then odds were he needed the sleep- but at least if she actually saw him then that horrible feeling that there was something she hadn't noticed might go away.

That thought in mind, she flashed the others a slightly evil grin before moving away. As she went she heard Muchs' worried tone speaking to Robin,

"You don't think she's...she's not serious is she?"

And then came Robins' reply,

"Of course she is," his tone was knowing, as if he already knew exactly what Djaq was up to, "Of course she is."

* * *

Will felt cold, not normal cold but that strange sort of cold that seemed to spring from nowhere, becoming unbearably hot around the face and back of the neck. He was trembling so hard that it, too, was beginning to hurt. He knew most of it was because of the panic caused by the continuous coughing, but that didn't make it any easier to calm down when yet another spasm of coughing racked him. He was dripping with sweat, head spinning and a horrible feeling of falling eveloping him. It was like he'd tensed up all over, but couldn't relax. And it _hurt_.

He already knew no one had heard his scream; his voice was too hoarse by that time. That meant that he'd just have to wait for this to pass, then either make another attempt at going to sleep or, the wiser thing, go and find Djaq. Odds were she'd know exactly what to do, that she'd be able to fix the problem almost right away.

Giving a quiet moan as the coughing abated, he tried to move onto his back instead of his current, curled position. He was sure that that alone would help greatly, if he could manage it. But he couldn't, couldn't even figure out how to sit up, much less anything else. Panting heavily, he tried again to call for help, finding this attempt even worse than the last.

It looked like there was nothing he could do but wait.

Sobbing a little, he forced his eyes open. He didn't know how long they'd been closed, only that if he had to deal with both pain and darkness for a moment later he thought he'd go insane. Not that there was much else to see when they were open; for the most part all he could see was the ground and a little bit of his surroundings through periphial vision. Another, more disturbing sight, there was blood on the ground.

That set his mind reeling; was he dying? Surely not, not from one night chained outside the castle, not from a cold. There had to be something else wrong, but what? Gasping, he closed his eyes again, deciding to focus more on continuing to breathe than why there was blood. Why couldn't he just get his voice a little louder so Djaq or, really, _anyone _could come help him? Why?

He'd hardly had the thought when he heard the familar voice, not very far away at all.

"Will?"

It was Djaq! He lifted his head a little, hoping to actually see her, and tried to draw enough breath to speak again. "Djaq," he panted, desperation lacing his voice, "Help..." allowing his head to drop once more, he shuddered convulsively, dismay gripping him as another coughing fit took over, as if the two words had sucked any remained oxygin from his lungs.

His chest felt tight, the pain worsening with each cough. But it would be over soon, right? It had to be...Djaq was coming...Djaq was coming...

He heard footsteps for a moment before a soft gasp, then more footsteps coming nearer. Couldn't quite keep from whimpering as the coughing went on. And then there was a hand on his back, a soothing voice, and a gentle touch helping to ease this strange hell he'd managed to fall into.

"Breathe," the voice hissed, "Just breathe..."

Will tried to tell her he couldn't, but the words were mangled with choking, and he knew she couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

Djaq sighed and, moving in front of him and placing a hand on each shoulder, pushed him up a little before moving closer, letting him lean forward against her. Sitting up would help the coughing stop, for a little while anyway. Head propped on her shoulder, he jolted violently with another cough, groaning in pain as it jarred him. Djaq winced and held onto him a little more tightly, muttering rapidly under her breath.

"Shh, just calm down. Breathe, Will, you're fine...just calm down..."

But the coughing persisted, and so did the pained reactions. Djaq, eyes wide, glanced back in the direction she'd come from. "Robin!" she called, "Come quickly!" she knew, of course, that a call for Robin would be taken as a summon to everyone else as well. She didn't have to waste time calling each of their names in turn. Turning her head so that the side of her face was practically against Wills', she tried again, this time slowing her own breathing.

"Breathe, slowly, not too deep...relax..."

Some part of her voice reached Wills' panicked sub-conscience, making him obey her words and eventually stop coughing, slumping against her, limp and listless. "Thank you..." he muttered, voice shaking and hardly audible.

Djaq nodded lightly and narrowed her eyes in concern. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

The answer was slow in coming, too slow for Djaqs' liking. "I don't know..." he whispered, "It just hurts..."

Djaq frowned, pushing him back a little. "What hurts?" she asked, looking at him carefully.

Will shuddered, refusing to open his eyes again and instead whimpering in an almost pathetic sort of way. "Everything..."

The Saracen healer was about to speak again, but was interrupted as Robin appeared somewhere behind her, along with the others. Of course, the first thing any of them saw was Djaq kneeling in front of Will, having to keep him from falling over. Their thoughts all instantly went to those of ambush and similer events, meaning that more worry than called for sprang into both voice and, unseen by Djaq and Will, eyes.

"What's wrong?" the question came from Robin, who was already coming closer, "Is Will hurt?"

Djaq shrugged, looking Will over again before looking up at Robin. "I don't know," she replied, "He hasn't said much..." she ran her eyes over the shaking figure in front of her again, noting the look of exhaustion that he wore, "Help me get him laying down," she said, "He's stiff...too stiff..." indeed, it was something she'd only just realized. He was limp, yes, but even her grip on his shoulders told her that each and every muscle was knotted with tension, why, she didn't know. But that was never a good thing.

With Robins' help, she pushed Will to one side, easing him back out of the kneeling position and onto his side, watched by six wide, worried eyes, the owners of which couldn't help but feel slightly bewildered about the condition of their comrade. What on earth had happened to him? People didn't just randomly hurt as bad as all that, did they?

Djaq winced as Will resisted being moved for a momet, gasping the moment his back was forced into a straighter position by Djaqs' insistent touch. His eyes were still tightly closed, face pale in the dim light of late evening. She looked at Robin, who was gazing at Will in confused silence, every inch of his face covered in concern, and a thought dawned on her for the first time. "Robin," she said, voice low, "Did anything happen, after you three left me and Much to get the horses?"

Robin frowned, considering her question while beckoning the others to come closer. "No...nothing happened." he replied, "There wasn't anything that could happen; it wasn't very far to the dungeons, and we couldn't get in there anyway..."

Djaq raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't get in? Where did-?"

Robin shrugged, eyes darting to the others and back a few times, as if asking for help. "There was a small group of prisoners chained together near a tree, close to the dungeon entrance..."

Allan nodded confirmation, not taking his eyes off Will, who was beginning to visibly relax. "Yeah," he said, "Me an' Robin were _guardin' _it. Not bein' funny, but how's that gonna help?"

Djaq turned her attention back to Will, regarding him skeptically. "Did anything happen then?" she inquired, "Did they do anything to him?"

Allan snorted. "Fat chance of that; they all had their hands fixed behind or above them."

The Saracen felt her eyes widen. "For how long? It was only until evening, yes?"

Robin and Allan exchanged glances. "There was a change of plan, remember?" Robin said slowly, "It was overnight..."

Allan stepped in quickly, adding, "But they weren't chained like that the whole time."

Djaq sighed, shaking her head and regarding the others somewhat scornfully. "Standing there staring isn't helping; John, go get some rest. Much, you get my supplies." as the two of them hurried away, she gently nudged Wills' shoulder, drawing another whimper and making him attempt to pull away from the contact. "Will," she murmured, "Where does it hurt the most?"

Will wrenched his eyes open, revealing glassy beryl irises, pupils so dialated that the green could hardly be seen past the darker circle. He couldn't quite make eye contact, looking up into Djaqs' calmer gaze, and struggled to speak before he finally managed to reply. "Shoulders..." he choked, "And my back..." he jerked slightly, eyes flickering shut once again, "It hurts, Djaq! It _hurts_..."

Djaq rubbed his arm soothingly until he fell still, then nodded to Robin. "See if there's a wound of some sort." she said, "It might just be-" she broke off as Will hissed in pain, flinching hard as Robin lifted the back of his shirt.

Robins' eyes went wide and he grimaced heavily, leaning a little closer to get a better look. "Djaq..."

"What is it?"

Robin motioned for her to look, grimace still there. "I don't know..."

Djaq leaned over Will, looking where Robin indicated, and inhaled sharply at what she saw; there were several bruises, as well as severe welts raised in various places, from the small of his back to near his shoulders. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to hurt. "When did this happen?"

Before Robin could answer, Will began coughing again, clawing lightly at anything within reach and panicking as he realized he couldn't stop. Djaq hurried to quell the fit, wincing at each of the choking gasps, and placed a hand at the back of his neck. Hot with fever, as she'd expected. Why hadn't he said anything?

Will squirmed slightly under her grasp, speaking in a trembling voice. "Djaq...Djaq, there's blood..."

Djaq saw Robin tense instantly at the words, probably wondering if Will had been attacked in some way or another and, as a result, wondering if the attackers were anywhere nearby or if it had happened during the hours Will had been left with the other prisoners.

Allan, too, seemed shocked. Eyes wide with alarm, he knelt beside Djaq, gazing down at Will in concern. "What? What? _Blood_?"

Djaq nodded, having already noticed it; a little around Wills' mouth, as well as on the ground nearby. "It's alright," she said reassuringly, "The coughing, it probably scratched your throat some." Allah only knew she didn't need him getting any more panicked than he'd been when she'd found him.

Much returned, looking as if he'd just run a terribly long way, holding Djaqs' small box of medical supplies. He looked frazzled, to say the least, no better than he'd looked in the life or death situations they'd fixed lately. Although Djaq could tell by now, this was no matter of life and death. It never had been. But she'd have to wait to explain it all- and there would be a hundred questions about Will from all directions the second she had him taken care of- until after she had Will dealt with.

Much, however, wasn't to know that particular bit of information, and practically threw the box at Djaq. He was panting a little, nothing short of terror etched across his face as he babbled at the healer, casting the ocasional glance down at Will as he did so. "Here's your supplies! What's wrong? Is it...is it a wound or some sort of disease? Is he alright?"

Robin held up a hand for silence, although he was fidgeting just as nervously as Much was acting. "Much, relax; Djaq has it under control."

Allan snorted, glaring. "Under control? Yeah, well I'm not bein' funny but, blood? And you really think that's normal?"

Djaq gave an equally dirissive sniff, opening the box and searching the contents for a jar containing a thick salve. "Yes, it's normal. You cough enough, especially hard, sometimes it can cut the inside of your throat. More frightening than dangerous." looking at Will again, she realized that his eyes were open again, and he was watching her with something akin to fear. Most likely wondering what on earth was wrong with him, she reasoned. All the more reason to hurry up.

She held the jar where he could see it, tapping the lid for emphasis. "This might sting a little, but after a moment you won't feel anything." not waiting for a reponse, she handed the container to Robin, who gave it a skeptical look before opening it and flashing Djaq a questioning expression.

Djaq rolled her eyes, gesturing vaguely. "You rub it on the injuries."

As Robin moved to do as directed, Will flinched, closing both eyes tightly and groaning through clenched teeth. Djaq sighed and, reaching into the box once again, withdrew another jar. This one held a clear liquid, a little thicker than water, that smelled of spice when opened.

Much gaped, eyebrows skyrocketing. "What is _that_?" he asked, backing away a little.

Allan was giving her an equally disbelieving look, head tilted to one side. "It smells bloody awful."

Djaq nodded, shrugging and setting the jar on the ground beside her. "It's to help with the cough," she explained, looking at Robin, "He needs to sit up so he can drink it."

Will did, Robin noted, look considerably more relaxed with the injuries to his back numbed as they were. He allowed Robin to pull him into a sitting position, head lolling a bit and a different sort of glassy expression in his eyes. He looked at Djaq curiously as she moved to give him the drug, frowning. "What..." he panted, "What just happened?"

Djaq held up a hand for silence, glad that the numbing salve had taken effect so quickly but at the same time not wanting Will to waste energy on speaking. "In a moment," she said, "Drink this first."

As the healer helped Will drink a little of the potion, it looked as if the two of them had become the most interesting sight in the camp, so closely were they being watched by the others. Will shuddered as the liquid burned his throat, the honey-like consistancy serving only to make it more unpleasent. Djaq smiled at the reaction, knowing that what she was about to say would make things worse. "You'll have to have some tomorrow, and the day after. Probably every day until you're well, it depends on how long it takes to get over the cough."

Robin, leaning back and crossing his arms, head tilted to one side, frowned. "But what's wrong, Djaq? Is he _okay_?"

Allan, apparently, decided to second the motion of Djaq telling them what on earth had just happened. "Yeah, I'm not bein' funny but," he looked at Will, "I thought you were either leavin' us for good or had got into some spirits..."

Much glowered at the lot of them. "And how are you fine now? Well..." he took note of the shaken appearance and decided to rephrase things, "Not fine...but one moment you were..._really _not fine, now you're just not fine! How does that happen?"

Djaq sighed, sitting back and now feeling rather tired herself. "Stop it, all of you. What happened isn't difficult to figure out."

They all stared at her blankly.

Djaq rolled her eyes. "You all saw the wounds!" she glanced at Will, who looked even more confused, "Not you, of course, but you obviously felt them."

Much gaped. "What wounds?" abruptly turning to Will again, he scowled fiercely. "When were you wounded?" he exclaimed, "Was it earlier today or-?"

The healer exhaled loudly, interrupting Much. "His back; there are several injuries. None of them are serious, but they would hurt a good bit. And no one should stay in exactly the same place for such a long time, let alone in shackles. Such a long period of time would mean even release would hurt to some degree, because of the blood going back where it's supposed to-" seeing the ponderous looks being directed at her from all around, she quickly amended, "I'll explain that later; it's healer things. But the point is, you were already tired and sore, yes?" she looked at Will for confirmation.

Will nodded slowly. "Yeah, but it wasn't that bad..."

Djaq shook her head. "No, but you're part of his," a nod in Robins' direction, "Gang. You couldn't do it halfway, could you? You also managed to catch a cold during that one night. Probably ended up soaking wet, did a lot of shivering. That makes you even more tired, so it's easier to become ill. And you didn't exactly get any rest today, having to fight, coupled with everything else that's happened...and I don't know exactly what happened to start it, but you were coughing when I found you, and I'm going to guess you couldn't stop, which would cause fear, making you tense up, which would make the pain worse, causing more fear, making it even harder to stop coughing, yes?"

Will blinked. "I don't know, but it really hurt..."

Djaq sighed, smiling slightly and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Of course you don't know." she said fondly, "You should have said something sooner..."

Will glared, an almost insulted look visible and voice still quivering a bit. "But it wasn't that bad earlier, I didn't think that-"

"You didn't think at all. Injuries are meant to be treated. What would you have done if-"

Robin held up both hands, eyes wide and something between a smirk and a grimace on his face. "Enough, enough. It doesn't matter anyway, it's done now." he looked down at Will, still obviously worried, "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "It's my fault this happened to begin with. If I'd paid more attention-"

Djaq snorted. "No, I should have paid more attention. I should have seen that something was-"

Allan glared sideways at Djaq, then at Robin, before looking at Will. "No, if it's anyones' fault it's mine. I shouldn't have hit you like that, especially after you flatout said that it hurt...It wasn't supposed to though, I thought I was only barely brushin' you, honest I did...at first anyway...should've taken a hint the first time you said something. And it actually left a mark and now you're in pain, and it's my fault...I'm guessin' an I'm Sorry wouldn't quite cut it?"

Will stared at him for several seconds. "Anyone else?" he looked around at Robin, Djaq, and Allan again before glancing at Much. "You? You're gonna say it's your fault for...for luring the wrong sort of guard or something, aren't you? Why can't it be my _own _fault? Should've tried harder to ignore it..."

Allan glared. "What, Will, I can't even apologize?"

Will shook his head. "No, _Allan_, you can't. Because it's not your fault, it's mine."

Much backed away. "How about it's no ones' fault? Why can't it ever be no ones' fault?"

Robin nodded, closing his eyes. "I like that idea, actually...Djaq, Allan?"

Djaq shrugged. "Will?"

Allan muttered something under his breath, grunting when Djaq elbowed him in the stomach. "Oy, what was that for?" he yelped.

Will sulked, going almost limp again in Robins' grasp and looking at Allan through half-lidded eyes. "Go ahead an' wake John...he'll want it to be his fault too..."

Djaq chuckled quietly and looked at Robin, gesturing vaguely. "I think you should let him lie down," she said softly, eyes flickering back to Will, "_You _need to rest."

Much nodded, pleased with the suggestion. "Even better than blaming no one...I'm a bit worn out from worrying over nothing, actually. Not even something vaguely life-threatening I was worried about...just a cold, really...pointless, that was..." he shot Will a hurt look, "You just wanted to see how worried we'd get, didn't you?"

Will, now lying down, winced slightly. "No," he said, "That really did hurt..."

Much snorted and started to walk away, only to spin around once more. "You _ever _do that again and...and...I don't know! Just _don't _do it again!"

Djaq smiled, watching Much retreat. "He was worried."

Robin nodded. "Very worried." he stood up, brushing one hand lightly against the side of Wills' face for a moment before doing so. "You'd best be feeling better in the morning, Will. I'd stay with you, but I should tell John that you're alright; he nearly fainted when we realized you were hurt."

As Robin walked away, Allan seemed to inflate minutely, speaking quickly. "And I am sorry for hurting you, even if it was an accident. I'm not gonna take it back, an' I'm not bein' funny, but you really need to get better at accepting apologies, mate, might be a useful skill to 'ave oneday." with that, he stalked in the opposite direction, leaving Will and Djaq alone.

Djaq glanced down at Will, who had both eyes closed and was already trying to fall asleep. He did look worlds more peaceful than he had earlier, although it would be a few days before he fully recovered from the ordeal. The idiot. If he'd just told her he was hurt she could have dealt with it _before _he had to hurt worse. She never would understand boys, she thought. Growling in frustration, she slapped him gently on the shoulder. "Robin might not believe in killing people," she hissed, "But if you're ever injured again and don't tell me, _I'll _kill you for him."

There were a few moments of silence before,

"Djaq?"

Djaq shot him another glare. "Yes?"

"That really hurt."

~The End~

* * *

**Don't bang the likelyhood of being in so much pain you can't move one moment, then suddenly being able to carry a somewhat coherent conversation. Not only have I seen it happen, it's also happened to me. More than once. So almost everything that happened to Will just now (Except for the back-injuries) was taken from the personal events of my last flu! YAY! Basically what happens is that, you're already sort of aching, then if you're tired on top of that, and cold, the shivering saps your strength (It was almost Christmas and I was in Wal-Mart. All day. Amongst a crowd of screaming people.) then you start coughing and, bang, can't stop. Not only does that tire you out even more, it also feels horrible. If your spine is curved on toppa that, you've got a recipe for DISASTER! BUT, if you manage to stop coughing, and then lie somewhat flat for a bit, or simply straighten your back, the pain goes away almost completely. **

**And NAHAHAHA, Will hates cough syrup! Anyone else?**

**Oh, and question; childhood LIQUID meds: What was the worst you ever had?**

For me it would be a toss up between this weird stuff that tasted like orange-pith (GAW that was NASTAY!) and this creepy, dark blue stuff that was kind of gritty and tasted like the smell of dirt...actually gagged on that one once...yeeeeah, it must be worse lol ^;^ 


End file.
